


Dogs Say Goodnight

by handyhunter



Category: Pushing Daisies
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-19
Updated: 2010-02-19
Packaged: 2017-10-07 09:31:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/handyhunter/pseuds/handyhunter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a line in Louis Armstrong's "What a Wonderful World" that I always hear as "dogs say goodnight" (instead of "dark, sacred nights").  Well, why wouldn't they?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dogs Say Goodnight

Digby was not the type of dog to fret over circumstances beyond his control, though over the years since he'd been reunited with Ned, he'd developed a keen sense of longing for physical affection.  This was assuaged by long walks and many rounds of fetch, but it was not until Olive Snook entered his life that Digby found a level of contentment he did not know was missing when it was just him and the pie-maker, who was not always a pie-maker, but that's for another day.

"…Digby," the pie-maker was saying.  At the sound of his name, Digby ventured over to investigate.  He found himself nose to nose with a wonderfully warm human being who rubbed his ears in the most delightful way.

"Oh, what a lovely dog," she said in dulcet tones, as Digby leaned against her hand and wagged his tail.  She straightened up and Digby was suddenly berefit of touch.  He curled up at her feet and looked up at the pie-maker, who was standing every so slightly further away than courtesy usually dictated, with his hands tucked into his pockets.

Then the pie-maker smiled and some of his hesitation melted away. "Can you start on Wednesday?"

Digby recognized a sort of kinship with Olive, who also wanted from the pie-maker things he could not give her.  It was Olive who petted him, allowed him to sleep on the bed and lick the salt off her skin, and scolded the pie-maker for not showering upon Digby the attention a dog of his nature deserved.  Digby and Ned, however, had an understanding, and Digby would not be the one to spill the pie-maker's secrets.

And so, for the time being, Digby would travel from the pie-maker's apartment to Olive's, next door, and keep watch at the Pie Hole, for he too had developed a taste for pie and crumbs that fell to the cool tile floors were not always easy to come by.  He was at ease in his life, secure in the knowledge that he belonged to the pie-maker and that Olive was there to fill the void for human contact.  If he sensed a longing in Olive whenever she looked at the pie-maker, he didn't let on, but sat patiently as she catalogued the pie-makers sins (of which there were few) and virtues (of which there were many), until it was time for Olive to put away her telescopes and listening devices and recipe books.

"Good night, Digby," said Olive, giving him one last pat before she turned out the lights.

"Woof," said Digby from his side of the bed.

The two of them fell fast asleep, Olive with dreams of the pie-maker sweeping her off her feet, and Digby of running through buttercup fields with young Ned.


End file.
